Misperfection
by LoonyXBirdX
Summary: Tired of being perfect. Tired of meeting expectations. Just flat out tired. A character is tired of trying to be perfect all the time and lets out her frustrations in the way of a letter, which also helps her to make an important decision.


A/N Random fic idea that popped into my head. OH Also Disclaimer I know I am pretty amazing and I get mistaken for Jo all the time I mean we're pretty tight, we're like this holds up crossed fingers but alas I am not her and most likely will never be her...well unless this whole life switching machiene comes out right...cuz then it's a whole other game mwhahahaha!

As I sit here writing this I am sobbing, I'm falling apart. For once I can't keep my perfect façade up. I feel like crap. Yes I said it, I cursed. I feel like crap. Take that mother. You're probably turning in your grave right now, and you know what I bloody don't care! Look I cursed again! And you know what it feels good. I don't want to be the perfect pureblood anymore. First I had to be the perfect daughter, then the perfect sister, and the perfect wife. Well, maybe I'm sick of it!

I'm human you know! I feel pain just like everyone else gosh darn it. Isn't it enough that I kept together when my sister left us, isn't enough that I kept it together as I watched my other sister grow darker and darker, eventually to get the Dark Mark. When I would watch her come home with scratches and bruises, sometimes blood splattered on her robes, or she herself bleeding, when I saw the blood lust in her eyes. I also kept it together while I watch my newly wed husband go out late at night called on Death Eater business coming home dead tired, but so thirsty for power that he was uncaring of what he had to do to achieve it. I didn't just keep it together, I supported them! I tended to their wounds, made sure that my husband would at least have a warm meal to come home to. I kept it together as my son was borne and I watched him being groomed to be just like my husband, and knew he would always thirst for more power. Knowing that when he grew older he would always be seeking to prove himself. As my house was searched head to toe after the war, as I was being interrogated about my involvement in the war after they caught my sister! Wasn't that all enough! Many would fall not just a bit short, but a long, long distance from perfect when faced with all of that.

Perfection is there even such a thing? Apparently there has to be or why would everyone demand it of me so often! Now my husband is in jail, and my son is set with a task that will put him right next to his father, or worse killed. Here's the thing however, everyone still expects me to be their perfect ice queen. I'm supposed to be pleased that my son has this chance to rise in the Dark Lord's army. I'm supposed to be pleased that he has a chance to redeem my family name. Not that there was anything wrong with it in the first place! It was not my husband's fault that that mission fell apart. It was as much everyone's fault as it was his! I'm tired of listening to all the same bloody snide comments from everyone. None of them even have a half of a brain to come up with something new to talk about anyways. None of them are even good enough to beg at his feet. They would do well to remember that small fact. But of course I can't tell them any of this. I have to take it in stride. I have to act like I'm deaf and can't hear a word they're saying. That's fine let them talk soon enough he'll be back, and they'll remember what power he has, then they'll all be quiet once again. Everything will be fine once he's back. The only problem with that is who knows how long it shall be before he returns.

Oh dear excuse the tear drops that are falling on this. It's just that if Lucius were here I wouldn't be in this situation. In this situation trying to decide what to do; trying to decide how to help my son. I can't truly help him myself, but I know I could employ the use of someone else's. It would mean breaking every law of pureblood perfection. But I know now it's not about pureblood perfection. I'm done being the perfect house wife. The perfect Death Eater's wife. I'm done being the perfect pureblood. I'm done trying to pretend I don't care about any of it. For once I want to do something, because I want to. I want to do something for my son. Even if I'll have to beg, even if I end up falling apart, even if it means losing that perfection that so many have come to associate with me, it's already too late. I am falling apart. I am collapsing. And one thing is for sure. Narcissa Astoria Malfoy has never been perfect, and damn it is sick and tired of trying to act it all the time.

* * *

Narcissa stood up from her place at her desk tears flowing freely at this point. She looked down at what she had just written and crumpled it into a ball. Walking over to the fire place she tossed the note into the fire. She watched as the ball slowly burned first turning to a dark black, until all that was left was ashes. She walked over to her mirror and looked at her tear stained face, and her hair which was fell limply around her shoulders. Narcissa took in a deep breath, and slowly let it out willing the endless flow of tears to stop. Quickly walking over to the bathroom she splashed cool water on her face regaining her composure, but a new sense of purpose. She would go to Severus's tonight. She would help her son. She would and she had no particular care for what anyone else had to say on the matter, she was making her own decision, and no one not even Bella, not even _Lucius_ could or would be able to tell her to change her mind.


End file.
